A Mother's Love
by Music Loving Bookworm
Summary: Hidden deep in the forest, a woman falls to her knees thinking about the past and praying for the future. Reliving her life, can she find where it all went wrong? Can she find where her world shattered? In the last stages of the Final Battle, can she find her son?


**I'm on vacation, so I had time to write this. It's a one-shot. Just had the idea come to me. **

**I don't own Harry Potter or Les Miserables, but both are wonderful pieces of work.**

***A Mother's Love***

The night had gone silent, maybe a little too silent. No more was the air filled with the screams of the injured and dying. No more were the walls of the castle crumbling. No more was the life everyone knew going to shambles around them.

There was just… Silence.

Silence as the moonlight flickered down through the canopy of the trees. Silence as the light couldn't chase away the darkness of the forest. The light also couldn't chase away the silence. The silence that scared and chilled her to the bone.

She found herself looking constantly over her shoulder, praying that no one was following her. She was so deep in the forest that that was hardly likely anyway. It was absolute. She was completely alone.

Alone she could wonder. Alone she could think.

What was happening? How many were dead? Who was currently dying?

Who was dead?

She fell to her knees, not caring about the mud that would stain her expensive silk robes. Mud… that was what started all this. The concept of Mud. People who were Mud. Whole societies that were Mud.

Mud. Filth. Inferior. Mudblood…

Why had she been so blind? Was there really a difference between Muggles and Wizards? Was there seriously a difference? Weren't they all just human? Mortal?

Muggles have killed each other mercilessly over the centuries, it was what every wizard was taught. They were brutal. Inferior. Filth. Wizards were better, they knew how to live. They were superior. And yet… here they were doing the exact same thing. Here she was, kneeling in mud, just praying that the hate wouldn't kill the ones she loved.

_"God on high, hear my prayer."_

She could remember as a child, going to the cathedral on those special occasions. Her parents were anything but religious: after all, there weren't many Wizard-only churches in London. Her sister was the most religious out of the three of them. Out of the three sisters. She could still remember her sister dragging her to the cathedral in Muggle London, where they would hide in the old choir balconies, listening to the sermons. She could still hear, from a deep memory, the choir singing.

"Remember Cissy," Her sister, Andromeda, whispered to her as the choir sung, "Whenever you feel alone… afraid. When there seems to be no one around who would listen… who can listen, there is always someone." Andromeda placed her hand on her sister's chest, right over her heart, "He is in here. And He will always listen."

She closed her eyes tightly, leaning back against her legs, not caring about the tears that started to fall. Andromeda… she didn't know if her sister still cared. Or if she knew what a lasting impression it made on her. Even if it was never in the forefront of her mind, it was still there. Just buried deep beneath the hatred, blood nobility, and false beliefs.

_"In my need, You have always been there."_

Looking back; there were so many things that had gone wrong in her life. Things that, according to her parents, were the right way, but they weren't. The first was her sister being disowned, her loving, scatter brained, older sister. Her sister that was her rock, she was the warm fire on a cold night. She was the listener, the understander. She had married for love, and because of that she was cut off. But she probably never minded. Andromeda was never one for the material things.

She too had married for love, but that was another thing that ended up going horribly wrong. Unknown to many, the arranged marriage between her and her husband was not void of love. They did love each other, she still deeply loved him. But just because you love someone, doesn't mean you love their actions. There marriage had been beautiful… until the Mark.

It was a common thing among the Pure-blooded group of wizards to discuss the ways of the Dark Lord. He was a favorite among some, and even those who didn't join secretly relished his ideas. After all, they were the idealistic ways of the pureblood. They were parallel to their ideas, traditions, and honestly… the perfect magical society in their eyes. The same could be said for her husband. It was the perfect way to live in his book.

She could remember the day as if it was yesterday. The day he took the Mark. They had just been married a little over a year, and her mother had taken her to a Healer on account of her resent sickness. It was that day that could be remembered as a happy one, or a sad one.

She was two months pregnant, and he was getting his Mark. She couldn't wait to tell him the news. He couldn't wait for his first assignment to 'purify' the magical world.

"As long as it is a boy," He had said, staring at his Mark, "A girl cannot continue the line. I want a boy."

As if she could decide that. Even magic cannot decide the gender of a baby.

Some time before that day, she had suspected what his 'business' was, but she never had questioned him. A pureblood wife does not question her husband, was what her mother had said. That day, he seemed more excited about the Mark then being a father.

Seven months later, she gave birth to a beautiful boy. Her son. Her only son. The light in her dark world.

She strained her ears. Listening. Waiting.

Everyone was waiting now. Waiting for it to end. Or waiting for it all to start up again.

She was waiting for news. Just a simple yes or no. Was he alive? If only she could know that he was o.k. If only she had protected him from his father's ways and choices.

_"He is young. He's afraid."_

She should have known from the beginning that her life was not going to be the same. From the moment he took the Mark, her life was gone. She thought it had been horrible learning that her sister and brother-in-law had taken the Mark. But this… this was different.

All throughout the pregnancy he was never really there. He would leave for weeks on end, and the only way she would know what he was doing was by reading them in the Prophet. Every she wasn't stupid enough not to know who was behind it all. She was scared. Scared about what he was doing, who he was following, and what would happen to her and her son.

She had been so sure it had been over that night. That stormy Halloween night.

Hugging her son to her chest, she whispered sweet words to him, soothing his tears. She sat in the rocking chair in his nursery, slowing getting him to fall asleep. The silencing charm she had placed on his room kept out the noise from the storm. It was just him and her. Her and her beautiful baby. It was just after sunset when the nursery door flew open, letting in her distraught husband.

"He has fallen."

It was supposed to be over, she thought. Looking over at the forest around her, she wished it had been over. None of this would be happening if it had just been over.

Why had it not been over? For my son's sake, why had it not been over?

_"Let him rest, Heaven blessed."_

As he grew, she knew that he was more compassionate than his father. He was loving to those around him. He cared. Even the smallest animal found on the grounds of the manor was cared for by her son. But the kindness was almost gone now. It was beaten out of him. It was buried by the beliefs and lies she had bought and grown up knowing. He had been just a child, unknowing to the cruelties of the world. Unknowing that there was another way.

"You must never be around those Muggles Draco," Her husband had said, "They are beneath you. Filth."

"No Draco, that is a filth's way of doing it."

He was a child, and he didn't understand his father's ways. He grew, learning all the things his father taught him. Taught to him with a firm, cold hand.

And when he questioned him… she wrapped her arms around herself.

_"Bring him home."_

"He is just a boy!" She had screamed, holding her young son.

"A boy that must learn not to question his father!" Came the reply. And a wand was raised.

How could she have been so blind? Now it seemed that there was never a time that Draco had defied him. Questioning led to punishment. Cruel punishment.

She was the one to protect her son. She had told him to change. She couldn't bare it again.

"Draco darling, listen to me. Do not disobey your father again. I know you might not agree, but please, for your own sake and mine, just do what he says. No questions."

Her seven-year-old son could only nod.

_"He's like the son I might have known, if God had granted him the chance." ***_

After that her son was slowly molded into what he was today. She watched as slowly her son tried to be like his father. He idolized what he once disagreed with. And now… she was sure he despised his father once again.

Could things have been different? Could he have been different?

But things were not that way. The nightmare had become her reality, and now she could see her faults. Her wrong doings. But it was too late. Slowly she lost herself to what her husband wanted her to be. Molded to what was expected of a pureblood wife.

_"The summers die, one by one."_

The days seemed to stretch together nowadays. Just an endless eternity of walking a fine line between life and death. Between pleasing the Dark Lord and angering him.

But even as the days seemed endless, the time since the Dark Lord's return still seemed to fly. Was it really three years ago that he returned?

_"How soon they fly, on and on."_

Since the Dark Lord moved into the Manor, everything seemed even worse than before. Before the Dark Lord fell, she was able to imagine that Lucius was really just on the business trips he said he was on. She pretended to believe his lies. The lies he told to keep her from harm.

She had been young then. Young and able to pretend. Now she was just old. And the evil couldn't be pushed away by a silly lie. She lived with evil.

_"And I am old, and will be gone."_

She felt so old. The trials of the war weighed heavy on her shoulders. She could only just imagine what that poor boy was feeling. How he must feel, knowing the very balance in the magical world rested on his shoulders?

He must feel the same way she felt when she had to watch her son take the Mark. Absolute torment and helplessness. The same feelings Draco had when he was given his task.

_"Bring him peace."_

Why had that happened? Why did her husband have to believe it was his greatest accomplishment? Condemning another being, his own son, to that kind of life?

She knew that Draco only agreed for her. Despite his hard and cold exterior, there was one thing that she knew for a fact. It was that he was fiercely loyal to her. He loved her, and so he took that Mark.

_"Bring him joy."_

And then he had been given that task. She shuddered just thinking about it. Who in their right mind would order a sixteen year old boy to murder one of the greatest wizards of all time?

She could only think of on man.

_"He is young."_

Even though she had only seen Draco a few times during his Sixth year, she could see the way he had changed. He looked restless and uneasy. He looked almost like a zombie when she had seen him at Christmas.

She couldn't imagine, or even fathom the amount of pressure he had on his shoulders. And to not even be able to escape it during the Holidays. He just had to return to the Manor, where his task lived within its walls.

_"He is only a boy."_

That was why she had asked Severus to guard him. To help him. That was why she had made the Unbreakable Vow.

Severus had let her see his memories. He hadn't wanted to, but she asked. Demanded. Now she wished she hadn't.

Was there any worse pain in the world than watching your child crumble before your eyes?

_"You can take. You can give."_

Yes, she decided, looking at the forest around her. There was something worse.

The knowledge that your child is dead. Or even worse, having no knowledge if your child is alive or dead.

She knew Lucius had all but begged to search the castle for Draco once the battle had started. But the Dark Lord refused.

A true father would search for his son. Yes, Lucius had started to show concern, but he wasn't desperate.

_"Let him be. Let him live."_

And now she could only wait. She could either wait for the fighting to start up again, or wait for the Chosen One to surrender himself.

Even though the Chosen One's surrender would probably give her the chance to look for her son… she couldn't help for the other outcome.

What good was having her son back if he had to live in a world run by a ruthless man?

No, a battle would be better. With a battle there was hope. With no Chosen One, all the hope was lost.

_"If I die… let me die."_

She would be unarmed if a battle ensued. Lucius had given up his wand to the Dark Lord long ago, and she had given Draco her wand when he returned back to school. They had been on the platform, hiding in a small corner. Just the two of them.

"I'm not taking it," he had said, shoving it back at her, "You can't make me."

"And I wont let you die," she had replied. "You know this all will not go down cleanly, and I refuse to let my only child go in unarmed."

He swallowed, "But I wont let you die either."

She had smiled, "Don't worry about me. Your father wont let me fight anyway."

_"Let him live."_

And now here she was. Kneeling in the Forbidden Forest, wishing… praying that he was alive.

Snap!

She jumped up, looking around her. Who was there?

Looking deep within the trees, she couldn't see a soul. Inhaling, she glanced up at the trees, trying to see the sky. How much time had passed?

She brushed off her robes quickly, running back into the trees. As she left her little clearing, she sent one more prayer to the heavens.

_"Bring him home."_

Bring Draco home.

Hidden slightly behind a large tree, covered by the Invisibility Cloak, Harry Potter watched with wide eyes as he watched Narcissa Malfoy run deeper into the forest.

**-End-**

**So I really like this story, and the song, BRING HIM HOME is by far one of my favorites in Les Mis. My favorite version is sung by Alfie Boe.**

******Think of the song as Narcissa's prayer.**

**I did a slight change to the lyrics just to fit the story. Where the *** is, the original lyrics are "He's like the son I might have known, if God had granted me a son."****(I'm sure we all understand how that wouldn't fit.)**

**Narcissa Malfoy has always been an interesting character to me, and we never fully know if she followed Voldemort. Sure she was Pureblood, but I never saw her as the Death Eater type. When I listened to this song, I randomly wondered what Narcissa was thinking about Draco taking the Mark, and how she felt during the Final Battle. Hence the story.**

**So… how was it?**

**-Music**


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